


The Twelve Months

by LazyChuckle



Series: Months and Years [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe, Azkaban, F/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-25
Updated: 2018-07-28
Packaged: 2019-06-16 01:48:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,712
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15426387
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LazyChuckle/pseuds/LazyChuckle
Summary: A muggle woman wakes up in the Azkaban cell where Sirius Black is kept.





	1. July-August

The first time she woke up in that cell she was horrified.

Across from her, in the poorly lit room with three walls and one barred exit, sat a colossal black dog with blazing amber eyes that shone in the dark. 

upon seeing this she squeaked out a cry of fear and retracted into herself , bringing her knees up to her stomach and shielding her chest with her arms, in the process pressing herself into the wall. She cast her gaze downwards.

Heavy seconds passed, slow second after slow second.

When nothing seemed to be happening, she dared to chance another glance at the beast. 

The dog just sat there, across from her, eyes blazing, unmoving.

Still terrified, Odette tried to take deep, unnoticeable breathes, wishing it would make her disappear. If in your head you convince yourself that you are invisible, you will be unnoticable. She didn't know if this rule applied when there were only two occupants in a room that have already noticed each other, nor if it applied to dogs.

Finally deciding that having the higher ground here would be to her advantage, she hesitantly got up to her feet, her back still pressing firmly into the cold, stone wall behind her.

She then noticed that this place was remarkably cold. It was almost freezing.

The beast continued to sit there, unmoving.

Odette could now make it out more clearly - it had black, glossy fur; a black pointed nose, droopy ears. The beast looked slightly malnourished, yet aristocratic. She was certain, that if the beast were to get up on its back legs, it would be taller than her, and she was taller than average.

If the animal was as dangerous as it looked, there would be no doubt why it was locked behind bars.

The young woman didn't like when animals were locked up, but she was absolutely convinced that whatever was in front of her didn't even qualify as an animal. It was monstrous. and it was in the same cell as her.

The cell was fittingly small for an animal, although it was fit to house a person. Under the small long gap in the wall resembling a window, was an elevation, that could almost be a bed. Several heavy chains were suspended of the walls, rusted from time.

There wasn't much more than that.

Odette jolted to the barred exit to her right, heart still racing. She had to get out of here.

Hunching over, Odette grabbed at the metal polls and tried to look through them, to squeeze her head through them, to see the other side. Yet all she could see was a wall across from her, as grey as the walls inside.

“Hello?!” her voice cracked when she called down the hall. She was beginning to get cold, but her feet where positively freezing. Her voice rang down the hallway once more, before she remembered that she was not alone.

She spun around to face the contents of the cell, left hand still glued to the bars.

Yet again, the dog sat there, unmoving.

She was beginning to think that it was a statue.

Cautiously, on the tips of her toes, Odette moved to the window, periodically nervously glancing at her roommate with suspicion.

What she saw outside horrified her further, if that was even possible.

Outside, many stories below, moving violently, was nothing but a raging sea, on top of which they seemed to be floating. Not a single piece of land could be detected on the horizon.

Suddenly, a cloaked figure swam across from her in the air.

Stopping momentarily, the black figure turned its head, looking at the small opening of her window.

Its whole body was now facing her, the bone-like hands peeked from under the rippling cloak, it face still shrouded in the darkness of the hood on it head.

It seemed to be an instant, a tiny fraction of time registered poorly in the woman brain, and the figure was right in front of her, its face no longer concealed. It had no eyes, and in place of its mouth was a black hole.

The blonde woman heard barking coming from somewhere in the back, but it was distant, dampened, dulled. 

The figure moved in on her, mercilessly _starring_ at her. Its lanky, _dry_ figures moved up slightly in delight.

She didn't have the power to move. She didn't even have the energy to stand, it almost seemed like she was now floating, too. Floating in despair and sickness.

She was blinded and then she woke up.

 

****

 

It was way past Odette’s bedtime. Today had been an especially long day, completed with screaming, shouting and a little violence to spice things up.

She wanted nothing more that to brush her teeth and get into bed as she unlocked her front door. 

She lived alone, and everyday she was greeted dully by her dim living room.

Dropping her colourful bag heavily next to the door, she took her shoes off and walked across the limestone floor of the flat to find a light switch. With her target reached her living room, along with her kitchen, lit up, exposing the tranquil colour of the interior. 

She walked on top of the soft blue carpet and reaching the edge, flopped gracelessly onto the soft brown couch. She moaning into the white pillow, as the clock on the white wall showed half-passed midnight. 

A loud meow rang in Odette’s ears and she turned her head over to look at the offender.

“Shh, Oscar, mommy’ s tired,” she scolded the black, fluffy cat with big, yellow eyes.

Oscar let out another agonising to the ears noise and jump onto the couch to sit next to his owner. 

She stroked his fur a couple of times.

“Meow,” and with that she jumped of the sofa and headed in the general direction of the kitchen, stopping and turning around to see if his owner would follow.

“Oh right, honey, sorry. I forgot,” she mumbled an apology. She pushed herself off of the couch unwillingly, forcing a loud crack in her spine.

“Ahhh,” she laughed as the cat made another noise, “I’m getting old, and you should learn to feed ourself,” she stumbled into the kitchen after her lightly trotting cat. 

After the little snob has been fed, Odette made herself a cup of mint tea, put it on the coffee table in the living room and flopped back down on the brown couch. 

 

“Not again,” she moaned as she opened her tired eyes to the all too familiar cell. She was hoping that last month’s nightmare wouldn't repeat itself, or she would seriously start considering therapy sessions. She was sitting in the same spot she woke up last time, her back against the same cold wall. And she was seriously considering therapy sessions.

The same pair of golden eyes greeted her from across the room. 

This time, completely unfazed by this bizarre dream, she pinched herself. She clearly remembered falling asleep on the couch, her tea untouched. There was absolutely no reason for this to be real.

When that didn't work, she though of other ways to exit this strange dream. Remembering how she left last time, she decided that she wasn't quite desperate enough to leave yet.

She looked up, her blue eyes scanning the dog. Strangely enough, it didn't look as aggressive as last time. It eyes were dull, resigned, sad. Its body was skinnier than before - she could see every rib stick out of the poor beast.

“I don’t supposed they feed you well around here, do they?” she said to no-one in particular, sadness in her voice. The dog didn't move, but she could see it breathing. Not a statue, then.

She got up, more confident than last time, with the decision to approach the animal. She also thought about trying to call someone though the metal fence, but once again remembering the cloaked figure though better of it.

With nothing left to do, she took a step forward, and fearfully snuck a glance out the window. Making sure that no monsters were right outside the window ready to suck her soul out, she ran to the other side of the cell and stopped a couple meters away from the creature.

With nothing better to offer, she stuck her hand out to him, allowing it to sniff it. The dog didn't move, and never took its eyes off of her. She stood there for a while, and taking the lack of response as a positive sign, she moved a couple steps closer.

The wolf-dog blinked at her. 

She moved closer still, tying her fear into a tight knot in the stomach.

With her hand almost at a very black nose, she stopped and crouched, making sure her long dress covered the sensitive parts. The dog made no move to sniff her hand. It didn't scowl at her either. 

Not quite brave enough to attempt to pet it, she retracted her hand.

“You’re strange,” she said, “but honestly I cant blame you, being locking here and all.”

The dog cocked its head to the side.

“Can you understand me?” She had a feeling it could.

The dog made a loud sniffing noise, almost like a sob.

It was a sob, she quickly realised when the animal’s eyes watered and a salty droplet disappeared into thick fur.

“You’re lonely in here aren’t you,” more of a statement than a question, “lonely and cold.” she said quietly.

It sobbed again, dropping it head, its ears plastered down.

“Oh don’t cry,” the woman’s heart broke for the animal, “I’m here with you, its going to be ok.” she reached out to pet its shaggy head.

She kneeled at the creatures side.

“What did you do to get here, eh, buddy?” she asked, tentatively petting him on the nape.

When only a sob followed, she hugged it gently.

Releasing Blacky, as she had dubbed the dog in her head, she leaned on the wall with her back and crossed her legs. Her hand once again found Blacky’s nape.

Time went by, but she had no idea how much, since she had no way of tracking it. A shiver ran through her body, her light white summer dress not contributing much to her warmth. And although it wasn't quite as freezing as last time, it was cold nonetheless. 

No longer crying, Blacky looked at her from underneath her hand. It ducked under it and moved towards her, slowly approaching her right side. 

Odette would have lied, had she said she wasn't scared senseless at the sudden movement.

Odette didn't dare turn around as Blacky’s muzzle disappeared from sight and squeezed itself between her and the wall, gently nudging in her shoulder blade, urging her to move away. Which she did.

Blacky flopped down between the woman and the wall, carefully curving his body around the shivering Odette, easily encompassing her in relative warmth.

Odette was tense, but as she got warmer she slowly started to relax, her body basking in the pleasant heat.

“Thanks.”

The composed dog let out a heavy _pfff_ and rested his snout on his paws.

Some time later, Odette fell asleep.


	2. Scorching September

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He was crazy, she knew.

It was abnormally hot for September. Even for a country so close to the equator, and mostly filled by desert sands. 

A cool pool in the yard, anywhere under the generous shade of tree, was the best way to hide from the unforgiving heat. 

“David! Don’t eat that!” shouted Odette’s fat, short godmother to one of the twins, which were happily digging around in the sandpit.

“Oh my,” she fretted, “they are probably hungry.”

“Probably,” Odette agreed, not really listening. She was enjoying the few quite minutes she got away from the twins, floating on her back.

“And it’s always like this! Lena, _shamelessly_ ,leaves them to me and then disappears…” Her voice started get more and more quite, before disappearing inside the house.

It was the second day of Odette’s stay at her godmother’s mason. Tomorrow she would have to go back to the city, since she had work. 

Odette splashed around a little in the pool and turned herself over, to look over at the sandpit. Neither David nor Alex were there. They must have gone inside to eat.

The blonde woman leisurely swam towards the edge of the pool and grabbed a strawberry from the elegant, antique bowl. 

“Instead of eating strawberries all day and being hungry,” came the frustrated voice of her godmother from the doors she disappeared through earlier, “you could come eat a proper meal with us.” she suggested.

“Coming,” was all Odette said. Her godmother was crazy when it came to food, so it was better not to argue.

She pushed herself out of the pool and grabbed the vibrant yellow towel, quickly dried herself of.

She walked quickly into the spacious living room, making a sharp turn to the right, though the archway, entering and equally spacious kitchen and dinning room.

Everyone was already there - the little blonde twins and their younger sister, their mother Lena, Lisa (her Godmother), Kelly - their neighbour, and James - Lena’s wife.

She took a seat in the only available spot - between the twins and Lena, which promised to make the lunch rather difficult, but not at all unenjoyable.

After they were done with dessert, Odette excused herself from the discussion of motorbikes and current political events, kissed the children on their heads, and headed upstair to her room. She was dying to take the swimming suit off and take a nice, cold shower. 

After drying herself off for the second time that day, she brushed her shoulder-length hair with the fuzzy, wooden hairbrush she had bought on her trip to Russia almost five years ago. She put in some hair oil she recently ordered online, and walked out of the washroom. 

The second door to the right lead into her room. It had light pink linen curtains, a red patterned carpet, a four post white bed and a matching wardrobe that took one of the walls up entirely. 

She padded over to the white nightstand, avoiding the white mirror. Reaching her phone, she unlocked it and set an alarm clock to ring in one hour. 

She slipping under the pleasant green sheets, turned onto her side and closed her eyes. 

 

She woke up against the same wall she always did. 

The cell greeted her with darkness and cold. The storm raging outside greeted her with howling winds, the sound and scent of heavy rainfall, and the periodic flashes and rumble of thunder.

She looked up, searching for a pair of gold, blazing eyes. Instead of the familiar dog the size of a bear, there was a man sitting in the same spot Blacky always sat. His dark grey, stormy eyes bore into her. 

“Where’s Blacky?” was the first thing she thought of asking.

“Blacky?” he repeated her words in a british accent. He looked at her, an amused smile slowly stretching on his face. The man had freshly inked tattoos on his chest - the flesh underneath them was still red and irritated, also a little swollen, probably with infection. He was wearing stripped pants and shirt, that have known better days. He was skinny, bordering on unhealthy, his cheekbones sunken in, his eyes heavy with dark weights under them, and what seemed like, inside them. Once an undoubtably handsome man sat in front of her, now destroyed by a force unknown to her.

“Yes, the dog that was here last time!” she exclaimed nervously, disliking his aggressively self-confident expression.

“Did the dog introduce itself to you?” He let out a barking laugh, his eyes shining madly. It seemed that he had lost his mind a while back. She got up on shacking legs.

He laughed and laughed; Odette took several steps back, almost toppling over. 

Finally after doubling over with laughter, he stopped.

His gaze snapped up to her and mad eyes met with liquid blue ones. His smile dropped.

“I’m sorry miss…” he said started almost conversationally, as if nothing had happened. His eyes were livid. He straightened out. He was tall, towering over everyone she knew. This didn't make him any less intimidating.

“A-anna,” she lied, swallowing. It was better to say something, before he made her say it.

“Miss Anna, what a lovely name,” it would have been charming, if this whole situation wasn't so uncomfortable. She stared at him.

“Well, Miss Anna,” he paused, “I’ve been here for three years now and there has never been a black dog around here,” he said darkly, his eyes hard as stone. His wide, smile shoulders where hunched over in a predatory way. 

“But I’m sure there was,” she argued with less confidence than she would have liked, “only last month when I was here…” she paused. She didn't know why she even bothered to argue over something as irrelevant as this. Especially in a dream. 

“Then you are mistaken,” he turned away sharply from her.

Odette couldn't say that she preferred this man to the dog. The dog seemed a lot nicer, even though it looked scarier. He was crazy, she knew.

“But I’m not mistaken,” for some reason she just couldn't let this go. Thunder rumbled outside.

He sat down on the floor, leaned on the wall where Blacky always used to sit. He pulled a knee up and draped him right arm on it. 

“Why is this so important to you?” he looked at her from under his straight, black, unwashed hair. 

She didn't answer. 

She continued to stand there, listening to the wind howl. She was almost considering walking up to the window to find the cloaked figure. She stared out the window in search for her escape.

“You probably don’t want to look out there for too long,” the man spoke up again, warning clear in his tone.

“Or what?” Although she knew exactly was will happen, she tested the man.

“You want to try?” 

She looked at his unreadable expression. His eyes were no longer glistening with madness. Their wills clashed.

“I think I know what you mean,” she gave in, turning her head away from the window.

She moved to sit on the stone cot, her back to the the window, “What are these shadowy things anyways?I saw them last time,” she asked, crossing her legs under her, shuddering a little at the thought.

“Dementors,” was all he said. She didn't understand.

“What are Dementors?” she asked in a child-like manner.

He looked at her like she was crazy. 

“The guardians of Azakaban,” he explained somewhat reluctantly, “they are native to this region, and were said to have been created by Ekrizdis himself.”

That raised more questions that it answered. 

“What is Azkaban?”

Lighting struck outside, momentarily illuminating the room.

“We are in Azkaban.”

“But what is it? And why are we here?” she pressed.

“Azkaban is a prison,” he didn't elaborate.

She opened her mouth to repeat her question, be he beat there to it. 

“I was charged with murder,” he spat out.

She froze. Now she was scared. Really scared. Her eyes widened and looked away from his face. She shot up from her place on the cot and ran to the corner, as far away from him as she could.

He bolted up, chasing after her, not that there was anywhere for her to run. He grabbed her by the wrist spinning her around. He saw with a horrified expression. She saw determination.

“A murder I did not commit,” he said before she had the chance to scream.

She didn't seem to believe him. He let her warm hand go. She moved away.

“If you didn't commit it, then why are you here?” she saw everything wrong with that question only after it left her mouth. Her back collided with a wall. 

“They framed me,” he shouted, his eyes blazing, his hand reaching towards her again.

“Why should I believe you?” He retracted his hands.

They fell silent.

“You do not have to,” he mumbled, turning around and heading back to his favoured spot on the floor, “just know that I have no intention of hurting you,” he finished in a whisper.

“Good to know,” she mumbled to herself, rubbing the wrist he had grabbed.

They didn't speak for some time after that. 

Odette started getting bored, her fear slowly drifting away. Over the time that passed in silence, only broken by the sounds of the storm outside, she studied the man that sat wordless, looking out through the window - he truly did not seem evil, nor violent. Mustering up all of her audacity and courage she asked:

“What is your name?”

He looked at her, his puppy-like eyes wide with surprise.

“Sirius Black,” he might not look like a serial killer, but his name certainly sounded like one’s.

“Isn’t Sirius a star?” she tried to made some kind of conversation with a _murderer_ , in a _prison cell_.

“Yes, it’s a family tradition,” he answered, looking at her.

“It’s a nice tradition,” she said, fully meaning it.

He smiled a bit. It was a sad sort of smile.

“How did you end up here?” he asked suddenly.

“I don’t know,” she let out slowly, “I just woke up here once every month for the last three months. Including today.”

He didn't say anything, but his raised eyebrow told her he didn't believe her. 

They continued to study one another.

“What do your tattoos mean?” she asked, unable to bare the silence and his stare anymore.

Before she could hear his answer, music started playing. It was coming from everywhere and nowhere in particular. In was soft… annoyingly soft.

“Can you hear that?” she asked, interrupting whatever he was saying.

“Hear what?” 

“THAT,” she said in frustration, and started singing along with the irritating tune.

“No, I cant her anything,” his accent made his words sound very melodic.

The noise became louder, and she shut her ears against it, only to realise the noise was in her head. She squeezed her eyes shut and the noise subsided. She opened her eyes.

Automatically she reached for her phone on her nightstand and turned the alarm off.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next time they will have more time together, I swear :)

**Author's Note:**

> This should have honestly been a oneshot, as in all the chapter posted simultaneously, but my hands are itching to upload this now.


End file.
